


Deliberations

by veridium_bye



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Chantry Issues, F/F, Mage Rebellion, Mage Rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veridium_bye/pseuds/veridium_bye
Summary: Word has gotten out that Seeker Pentaghast has fallen in love with a survivor of the Mage rebellion, prompting the Chantry to investigate just how influential Olivia is on Cassandra's politics and personal virtues. Being considered for the next Divine means almost every aspect of your personal life is scrutinized, but what happens when an aspect happens to be a most capable and unforgivingly honest Mage with an Orleisian flare for detail?





	Deliberations

“Thank you for coming, Olivia. I am afraid I had no way around this.” Theia stood from her desk in her bed chambers as her friend made her way from the stairs to where she had been working for hours. “I see you received my request for your presentation.”

Olivia wore a clean, pale brown dress, quite the departure from her usual workday attire doused in stains and burns from the fireplace in the Mage tower. Her hair was washed and tied up in an updo, and her clean skin had no blemish of powder or apothecary materials to speak of. She had received a note in the early morning instructing her to come like this, and while it put a wrench in her plans for the day, her instincts said to follow her friend’s word. 

“My dear, have you a need for me to fish you out of another fiasco with a nobleman, again? Is Ambassador Montilyet quite preoccupied?” Olivia smiled. 

“You know I resent that,” Theia replied. She couldn’t help but grin, though. Olivia as a friend and person in general presented a soft-spot for her. Unlike Veronica, Olivia could freely tease her and she would be quite content.

“Forgive me, I am only confused, is all. Your letter was quite vague.”

“Well, that is because…”

A figure then cast a shadow on the floor in front of the balcony door. It was a figure adorned in a shapeless robe, and a angular hat, like the ones depicted on the stain-glass windows in the worship halls of the Circle. Olivia knew exactly, then, who had joined the conversation, and she turned her attention to the Revered Lady as she returned inside. 

“Lady Olivia. I am afraid that was my request to Her Worship. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Revered Mother Diane. I am here from Val Royeaux on specific orders to speak with you.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed, and her eyes returned to Theia. “What is the meaning of this? I haven’t been approached like that since I was requested to join the Circle.”

Theia sighed as she placed her hands on her hips. “I’m afraid the Chantry has caught wind of your...relationship with The Seeker.” Theia was compelled out of respect for the company in the room to describe people by their titles and formal dynamics, rather than be as direct as she wanted. Her eyes, though, spoke to the sympathy she felt for her friend as this ordeal would unfold. 

Olivia’s chest tensed, and she turned her attention to the woman in Chantry robes who stood with an austere expression, as if such behavior was to-be-expected and exalted. 

“I see. And what exactly is the extent of the understanding, if I may be so blunt?”

“We understand that you and Seeker Pentaghast have formed quite a...intimate bond. Seeing as she is being considered for one of the most elevated and important callings mortal life has compelled of us, we would see that she has surrounded herself with influences that would be conducive to her role, should she be named the next Divine.”

Olivia exhaled. “Tell me, are you tracking down the Hero of Fereldan for such an investigation as well, seeing as she is Sister Leliana’s lover, a Mage, and known for her staunch position on politics as well?” 

“Olivia,” Theia warned. Her chin lowered as she gave a non-verbal caveat to Olivia’s temper. 

In return, Olivia loosened her shoulders and sighed. “Forgive me, Revered Mother,” she said begrudgingly, though to people who did not know her well it came across as stern manners, “I have been distracted in my work and thus am a bit fatigued. I am receptive to any questions you have. Should Her Worship allow it, we may sit here by the fire and discuss your matter.”

Olivia reached out a hand, gesturing towards the opposing couches. Theia did not put up a fight, and instead stepped away from her desk, walking towards both the women and standing between them momentarily. “Surely, my chambers are of service. I will see myself out, so as to give you privacy. Revered Mother. Lady Olivia,” she nodded to both sides graciously, saving Olivia for last and shooting her a knowing eye glimmer. 

Hold steady, she wished to say. But such things were impertinent. 

Olivia watched Theia withdraw down the stairs, and as she heard the door open and shut, she turned her full focus onto her remaining company. “Please, Revered Mother, have a seat.”

Mother Diane nodded cordially, a benign grin on her lips as she made her way along with Olivia to the couches. She picked one, and Olivia picked the other, choosing to face her head on rather than to the side. Such body language was not lost on Mother Diane, and she took note, before judging outright. 

Olivia took her seat like a Lady, her back arched, shoulders back, her legs gathering underneath her knees and crossed at the ankle. She placed her hands gently on her lap, her chin held high. This was her Game-playing posture.

“Enchanter, I am grateful to be met with your open mind. Your reputation for congeniality and magnanimity left quite an impression on the Capitol.”

Olivia smirked. “You are too kind, Revered Mother. My time amongst the Orleisian nobility are considered some of my most pleasant memories. I remember my times in Val Royeax fondly.” Lies. Her time being paraded amongst the wealthy was some of the most arduous and exhaustive experiences she could remember. Not even traveling as a rogue Mage rebel could compare to the way her body agonized underneath the guise of corsets and masks. 

Mother Diane grinned. “I am sure. Truthfully, I only have a handful of questions for you. Should you answer them honestly, I will be satisfied.”

“Surely. What do you wish to know?”

The woman seemed to be contemplating an awkward question, trying to find the most euphemistically graceful way of posing it. Olivia could read the discomfort like an open book page, and a corner of her mouth cracked a grin. How long would it be before the question of her sex life was brought front-and-center? She wondered, but she knew it was only a matter of minutes, to be sure. 

“I assume, my Lady, that you have been made aware of Lady Adalia Ferndale’s accusations of your character and past experiences as a Mage. Such allegations have caught our attention, however, we do not wish to be partisan in our view. The Maker loves and protects us all, in our imperfections. I wish to ask for your testimony in the face of these claims.”

“And what, pray tell, are the accusations you are referring to, specifically?”

“That...well…” Mother Diane pursed her lips, feeling the torn nature of her duty to be honest, but conservative. “That you spent your time in the Ostwick Circle tempting Templars to sin. That, in the wake of the Rebellion, you and your peers traveled as rogue criminals, thieving and distracting innocents to idleness. That you utilized the charms of your body and carnal nature as a woman and a Mage to illicit compensation in the form of money and gifts. That you corrupted Lady Adalia’s husband into a lucid state of ineptness, wherein she had to intervene in order to preserve her household whilst you distracted his energies using your...talents. That, now that you are here working for the Inquisition, you have become delinquent in your moral recuperation and penance in order to pursue the Seeker as a lover, distracting her virtues as an Andrastian in the process.”

Olivia’s eyes remained fixed on the Mother as she listed out the malicious docket of claims. Deep down, she wished to laugh like a giddy fool, because to some degree each and every claim had truth to it. But, in true Chantry form, understanding the perspective of those who need to survive comes laced with counterintuitive snobbery. 

There was a pause of silence, wherein Olivia allowed the list to simmer the tension in the air. Then, she smiled, as if she wished to put all nerves to ease with her guile. 

“Well, Revered Mother, that is quite an...artistic, selection of crimes.”

“You have an interesting choice of words, my Lady.”

Olivia nodded once, before rising to her feet again. “Before I answer, may I pour you some wine or water from Her Worship’s reserve?” Olivia motioned towards the end table with two pitchers at the ready, one full of booze, the other of room-temperature water. The Revered Mother agreed to water, of course, remaining true to temperance.  


Poised and prim, Olivia made her way to the table and poured two chalices, one of water and one of wine. Her hands were that of a properly-trained and subserviant Courtesan, who had to do this procedure as often as she had to breathe. She returned with one in each hand, and glided towards Mother Diane, extending her cup to her. 

After Mother Diane took her water and sipped lightly, Olivia returned to her seat, holding her own chalice close to her chest. She waited to take her first sip.

“I am afraid Lady Adalia’s claims come from a most salacious exploitation of my confidence in her as a friend and employee. She hired me originally as a servant woman after she found me working for a Mercantile trader along the coast of the Free Marches. Her husband, the late Lord Ferndale, was a most abusive and trifling man, and she enlisted my capabilities as a apothecary in order to subdue his moods, to the betterment of all. I acted in compassion, not in lust.”

Mother Diane’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t look ready to argue. “I see. That is a most unfortunate circumstance.”

Olivia then took her inaugural sip of wine, nodding as she swallowed. “Yes. Truth be told, I do not blame Lady Adalia for her malice. Such a life can breed unrest and unkindness in our souls. I wish her well, and am sorry to have had this ordeal entangle us both.”

“You are most empathetic, Lady Olivia. What of her other claims, then? If she, as you say, exploited your confidence in her, does it then follow that what she says is true?”

“And what if it was, Revered Mother? What, then?”

A tense silence followed Olivia’s shift in tone from cordial to contentious. Mother Diane tried hard to maintain a decorous expression, whilst Olivia searched for a crack in the facade with her despondent-looking eyes. Her chalice rested on her lap, cupped by both hands. 

“We would be concerned that someone of such experiences would have unideal ambitions for aligning themselves with the next Divine. Being the Most Holy means working for the best interests of all Thedas, and not simply the perspectives of the few. If the Seeker is surrounding herself with those who have less than pure purposes, it is our responsibility to ascertain and understand.”

Olivia then giggled, her trademark tactic for making her opponents become off-put. Seeing Mother Diane frown, she knew it had its desired effect. 

“Revered Mother, tell me, how many mistresses has the Chantry neglected to recount in its histories of all the Divines that have ever been?”

“Lady Olivia, I am not sure I understand what you’re alluding to.”

“Oh, of course you do. Everyone does, surely. Let me see if my meek mind can conjure some truth, then, since you seem to be stumbling. There was...oh, Divine Rosamund was known for her lewd tastes in erotica. How many lovers did she bed in her tenure whilst the Chantry quivered in their robes?”

“Divine Rosamund had other qualities besides her taste in art, Lady Olivia. She was trained and mentored for her succession her entire life.”

“Yes, and she was also the muse for what I have heard to be some of the most delicious erotica in the Exalted Age.”

Mother Diane swallowed stiffly, her cover starting to crack. “Does this mean, then, that you admit to your reputation?”

“I thought my reputation was one of congeniality and magnanimity? If so, I wholeheartedly do.”

“I was referring to your promiscuity and proclivity for radical political sympathies, Enchanter.”

Olivia remained quiet. She turned her eyes towards the fire, and put the rim of her chalice to her lips. Her eyes glazed a bit as she got what she wanted: the pomp broken down, and the true motivation behind her interrogation brought to light. The Chantry would never like the idea of a Divine going to bed with a former Courtesan who had become notable for her defense of Mage rights. Such a combination was a liability: she could see the street artwork now, the mock portraits of Cassandra, Divine Victoria, sitting tall on the Sunburst Throne with a woman dressed in Orleisian lingerie hiding behind it, reaching out to her heart and her sympathies. It churned her stomach to feel so objectified even in a hypothetical sense, and that in turn made her angry. 

She took a rushed gulp of wine, letting it rest on her tongue so the bitterness would distract her fury. After swallowing it down, she turned her attention back to her conversational partner.

“Mother Diane, I do not pretend to adhere to conservative virtue with regards to Mages. I am, after all, one of them. I am also Orleisian by birth, so I am more intimately aware of just how much the Chantry sits on its hands whilst violence is inflicted on us for the sake of control and “peace.” Magic may serve man, not rule over him, ‘tis that right? Well, what would the Maker have us do when the Chantry merely deposes Magic as a ruler in favor of Oppression?”

Mother Diane’s brow furrowed. “The Circles have been an enforcement of order and purpose in the lives of Mages and Thedas as a whole, Lady Olivia. However, with their disbandment, I hardly think it wise to deliberate such topics now, before we know what the next Divine may wish to do once she is coronated.”

Olivia scoffed. “I understand that well enough, Revered Mother. In fact, the Orleisian in my blood is roaring with wisdom. I know exactly why you wish to know my truth: because you see Sister Leliana’s radical sympathies as a most unsavory option, and you have contemplated Seeker Pentaghast as a centrist alternative. However, my sudden appearance and proximity to her has curtailed the ease of your choice. I am the great outlier you wish to understand so that you may figure whether she will reevaluate her loyalties, or remain loyal to Andrastian doctrine.”

Mother Diane remained quiet, her face stone-cold and unforgiving in its impatience. In return, Olivia softly smiled. “I see I have cut to the bone of the limb, haven’t?”

“Your brazen temper is most unnecessary. You have merely the task of being honest in adherence to your conscience. All of this theatrical discussion of history and radicalism is besides the point. We have a duty to the Empires and to the faith to uplift a Divine who can be a capable and compassionate figure for people to look to during such difficult and uncertain times: a leader who can unite Andrastians with the goal of peace, first and foremost.”

“I can think of no two finer people for such a role, then. Sister Leliana has put her life on the line in service of all Thedas, as Seeker Pentaghast has done, as well. My position and opinions are a mere splatter of color on the corner of the portrait at hand. She served Divine Justinia with dedication and virtue, and Beatrix before her. Surely, that is enough to qualify her in lieu of any influence I may have on her.”

“It only takes one new color to distort the image of an entire landscape.”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, setting her chalice that was not mostly empty on the table in between them. A hallowed moment, like the one before an executioner's sword flew.

“I will never forget all of the men I let between my legs who had charms of Andraste on chains around their necks. All of the men I have let inside, who took the Maker’s name in vain whilst they did so. I will never forget the way they growled, the way they smiled with smug pleasure as I straddled them. The way they took me once, twice, thrice even in one night. The way they never once mentioned their wives and families waiting at home for them to return. The way they begged for me, the way they wished my touch they knew not the truth of, to be used for their carnal tastes. The way they paid with coin that could have just as easily gone to Coffers. You know, Revered Mother, many times I found myself wondering how I survived my life in the Circle whilst being such a fool: After all, it took so many years for me to realize I could have been compensated for my being fucked over, whilst the Chantry was able to do it for free.”

Mother Diane’s eyes widened with each new statement Olivia made, the shock of her brutal honesty leaving her dumbfounded. No one had the gaul to speak in such ways to a Revered Mother of the faith, surely. But, there she was, Olivia in all her erotic glory. And she did it with a most pleasant demeanor. 

“You have offended me in the most disturbing of ways. How dare you speak with such false impunity to a ranking member of the Chantry?!” the raised anger in her voice betraying the decorum of the conversation. 

Olivia remained undaunted and unimpressed. “And how dare you, Mother Diane, suggest that I ever had the power or the agency to deny a Templar’s taste in their formal captives. That I had the ability to tempt them and bed them as if they posed no danger to my life? That I had anything left to my name but my body to give in return for money to survive? You come here, all the way from the Capitol -- a four, five days ride at minimum? To question me with your entitlement to my life and my truth, and I am the one who has dared beyond sensibility?”

“If you choose to associate yourself with a servant of the Chantry who stands to ascend to the role of Divine, then you have no justification for desiring the privacy of a common person. In your platform and tastes for human flesh, you implicate your soul.”

“Then throw my body to the pyre when the day comes, Revered Mother, and watch me burn. I know you must be haunted by nightmares of how many bodies of Mages, of Elves, of those left behind by the Chantry’s ceremonial apathy. Only a person without a heart would sleep well with that knowledge.”

Both women rose to their feet, keen to stand tall for their respective views. Olivia glared with unabashed confidence now, whilst Mother Diane’s judgement brewed in her eyes. 

“I see now. I see quite clearly just what Seeker Pentaghast must feel attracted to in you. You are spirited, clever, and beautiful. But, if she has any loyalty to the principles of her faith and position, she will evaluate such a choice.”

“Is that a threat, then? Will you depose her name from deliberations on my account? You would throw away one of the foremost qualified people for Divine, even after all the people you have lost?”

“The scarcity of our options cannot make us bend into the direction of an unwise choice.”

“Really? Tell me, have you asked for a Harlot’s perspective on that sage advice? Because I can testify confidently that when it is between letting yourself and your friends starve, and having money for bread at the risk of your bodily safety, there was no scripture I could remember from my Andrastian upbringing that made me feel rewarded for my selflessness and self-sacrifice. I cried for Andraste’s mercy many a night, but when the dawn came, it was one of the four other Mage women who’s blessed hands picked me up off the ground.”

“The Maker comes to us through each other. Only, I fear the Seeker has believed that in welcoming you into her life, when you clearly are most unsympathetic to her faith as a cornerstone of her existence.”

“On the contrary, Mother Diane. I respect her choice, and I challenge her to be better. Such is our duty to one another as people: to witness and help each other become the best people we can be. That is one of the many reasons I fell for her, because she has taught me not to lower my chin to anyone who presumes to know more about my experiences than myself. Not even Revered Mothers who come to my residence, compel my friends to offer me up ready for testimony, so that she may have her traumatic past cut, sliced, and diced for the sampling. Now, if you excuse me,” Olivia then shifted her weight to face the opposite direction, flattening out her dress skirts with her hands, “I must be returning to my work in the Tower. The Inquisition does not have ample time for us to sit amongst ourselves and slander each other over wine.”

She began to head for the stairs, ready to be done with it all. From behind, she heard Mother Diane call after her:

“Enchanter, if you do not collect yourself and resolve this argument with me in the way that is proper, I will be forced to make your disrespect known to the Inquisitor herself.”

Olivia stopped in her tracks. She tilted her chin up, biting back a laugh. Turning to face Mother Diane from her the side, she raised a brow. 

“Mother Diane, there is absolutely nothing about my behavior towards you that the Inquisitor will not understand. But I will say this: if you punish Seeker Pentaghast for my temper, after all she has committed and sacrificed, you will be far and away the bigger fool than me. It would be quite par for the course, now, wouldn’t it? The Chantry blaming a Mage for all the trouble. I can hardly imagine that would be smart politics in this current climate, though. Best take care not to bury the Circles, or the Chantry’s relationship with powerful Mages across Thedas, further into the ground than it already is. I wonder where the Hero of Fereldan, the Champion of Kirkwall, or the Inquisitor, all Mages -- or, for that matter, either of your contenders for Divine, who have taken Mages for lovers, would feel about such a partisan choice.”

And with that, Olivia scanned the Revered Mother up and down, a sign of resigned aggravation. Then, she turned and made her exit once and for all. Behind her, Mother Diane looked ready to spew steam from her ears, infuriated with the gross candor she had been answered with. 

As Olivia shut the door behind her, she saw that Theia had been awaiting the end in the hallway, careful not to stay too far away.

“Olivia, you’re done already?” she said, turning around to face her.

Olivia shrugged, seeming to have just walked out of the most casual conversation of her life. “Of course. What did you expect, an interrogation?” 

“Well, yes, that is what they were here for, at least. What...ugh, Maker, did you do?”

“Theia, calm yourself,” Olivia smirked, walking past her and patting her on the shoulder as she did so. “I hardly left a scratch. Just be careful, I may have incited an Exalted March onto the Seeker’s bed chambers.”


End file.
